Totes Shitty
by Paper Lilly Webs
Summary: "The bistro serves the worst food in town, but it's the cutest girl in town who serves it." Short Victorian DirkKat. I'M SORRY. No Genderbending.


**A/N**: *throws this here and absconds* I'M SORRY

* * *

The bistro serves the worst food in town, but it's the cutest girl in town who serves it. In the smog and pollution that London town has become, this little restaurant provides a beacon in the gray, monotonous mornings that lead Dirk into the coming day. Despite the crap, almost surely burnt food, the diner is packed, every morning without fail. When Dirk passes by in the evening, every table would be taken, and he's positive he could say the same at lunchtime.

The girl in question, the object of every city man's affections, has all-day shifts, and Dirk's pretty sure she works night jobs too, though with all the tips she gets during the day, he doubts she needs it.

Sometimes, Dirk would be disgusted with himself, because the girl looks young, so very young, but according to rumor, she's past twenty. That isn't too bad for Dirk's own age, but even then, he'd never been one to pine over someone. Only once had he chased someone he knew he'd have no chance with, and based on how that had ended, he'd vowed to never let something like that happen to him again.

But here he is once again, sitting in his corner booth of the bistro, leaning against the wall and watching the head of black-red hair bounce around the overcrowded room. The ever-pungent scent of shitty food wafts about the place, but no one seems to notice, except the one or two women who turn their nose up at the fact they're being blatantly ignored. Living near the river where raw sewage is constantly unloaded, Dirk's rather use to distasteful smells, and perhaps finds it easier than most to keep his focus on... other matters.

Despite having come into the bistro hundreds of times since his first visit over a year ago, Dirk is still a little unsure as to the serving girl's name. He'd heard people call her Kitty, Katherine, Catrina, and anything of the above. She'd never confirmed nor denied any of them, just smiled and continued on with her work. Dirk personally is very fond of just the simple Kat, something he's not sure how many people call her, but at least she still smiles when he addresses her as such.

Sometimes, he starts thinking she notices him more than the others; why else would he always get the same table, as if it were on reserve for him every morning? But then he remembers that's stupid and selfish. What would make Dirk different from anyone else that ever passed through the restaurant?

But the blonde would still get the same fluttery feeling every time Kat would greet him with a smile, leading him to his corner booth and setting the ready-made cup of mucky coffee in front of him. He would still watch the way her perhaps a bit thin lips curl upwards when he smiles back from behind his tinted glasses. He would still lean his chin into his hand as she makes small talk until another customer calls for her attention.

He would still look forward to when she'd make her way back to his table to ask for his order, though he knows she knows he'll always order the same thing: scrambled eggs that would always have shells mixed in, and a slice of surely burnt bacon. He /knows/ she knows, but he doesn't ever tell her so, letting her believe that he's as clueless as she seems to be.

He savors those snatches of conversation that passes between them whenever she has a moment of respite. He hates them, though, because it reminds him he's head over heels like everyone else in this joint. What. Makes. Him. Different.

"Well, you don't perpetually stare at my ass." Dirk blinks in surprise and looks up at Kat, who's standing next to his table with a fresh pot of something resembling coffee, and he realizes he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "And you're actually intelligent; not a brainless monkey." Kat shrugs, leaning over to refill Dirk's cup.

"I'm far less educated than many of the gentlemen in here," he reminds her quietly, leaning his chin back into his hand. She gives a shrug, leaning her hip against his table with her head cocked.

"Then you're just not a monkey."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." He chuckles, earning himself a snarky smile from Kat.

"You must not meet very many nice people, then."

"Or maybe I'm not a very nice person." Kat gives a snort at that, waving her hand idly at Dirk as another customer calls for her, the waitress trotting over to their table. Dirk watches her walk off, smiling a bit at her gruff voice. Perhaps a smoker? It's not unheard of for women to enjoy tobacco...

Dirk shrugs it off, instead letting his eyes flit over Kat's hair, pulled neatly and tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck, though her bangs are left scraggly on either side of her face. It's perhaps a bit short for most women of the current time, but that's perhaps why Dirk is so attracted to her, though he'd never admit that out loud. Being associated with... the other bus isn't exactly what you want with a high profile job such as Dirk's.

Dirk has to blink himself out of ihs revere as the clock above the door to the kitchens goes off with the nine o'clock chime, sighing as he gets to his feet. He drains his cup to be polite, then heads for the door on his way to work, grabbing his jacket. His orange eyes glance to Kat once before leaving, hopping down the rotting wooden steps to the street.

Perhaps he'd visit later that night.

Later that night finds the blonde walking down alley after alley to his hideaway near the bridge on the waterfront, hands in his pockets as he traipses through the smoggy evening. With his head turned upward, he looks the picture of focused, but his eyes are trained down at the ground, gaze flickering over small weeds poking through the cobblestones and dirt.

He can feel his watch ticking in his breast pocket, but isn't really worried about the time, having decided hours ago that he wouldn't bother Kat with his presence as much as he would like; he'd just end up being one of those useless slobs, would he not?

He snorts and shakes his head, looking back up to watch the road ahead of him, blinking in the fake-lights of the lit lamped roads on the other side of the houses he's walking through. Perhaps he should just head home to get to work earlier tomorrow, but he doesn't much feel like doing so, so keeps walking towards the abhorrent-smelling river.

He'd find his hiding place on the terraces next to the papermill on the banks, scraggly shrubs and weeds trying to shoot up in the polluted earth. There aren't many lights there, but the ones from across the river are enough to illuminate the terraces to see.

Kicking at a small pebble as he starts down the first terraces, Dirk pauses for a moment to see if anyone is around, more out of habit than need; who'd really come down here besides him? Who'd /want/ to come?

Apparently a small man with his feet over the last terrace and scarf wrapped up around his nose. His fingerless-gloves probably do very little against the chill of the settling mist from the river, but his small form remains faced towards it, eyes blank in thought.

Dirk cocks his head to the side, not sure whether to advance or not towards him, perhaps speak to him?, wondering why someone so small should be out this late; but perhaps they just look small? Dirk had heard of midgets in a circus passing through town...

His decision is made for him when his foot kicks a bit of metal onto the cements below him, an echoing clang ringing through the empty, amphitheater-like space. The smaller man jumps a little and his head whips around to look at Dirk, eyes wide with surprise at the company.

The blonde tilts his head to the side, finding the other very familiar, but having no idea where he would have seen them before. "Ahah..." he starts speaking before realizing it, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry to disturb you. There's... usually no one here."

The scarfed man scrambles to his feet, looking flustered as he pulls down aforementioned scarf as he mumbles an apology of his own, revealing a familiar splay of freckles that causes Dirk to halt in his advances towards him.

"Kat?" he asks in surprise, causing what appears to be a cross-dressing Kat to jump again.

"I-It's not what it looks like, I promise!" Kat eventually manages to get out, cheeks flushing a brilliant crimson under her freckles.

"Are you sure? 'Cause it looks like you're dressed in men's clothes."

"Yeah, my clothes." Dirk raises an eyebrow to tell her to continue. Kat just looks uncomfortable, shuffling her feet around and stuffing her hands into her pockets. "You're going to laugh and think weirdly of me."

"I can't imagine why that would be," he replies bluntly. Kat flinches a little, then sighs, pulling her scarf back up over her nose.

"Well, I needed a job, and... Well, I'm shit at a lot of things, except for looks, it seems. After so many employers telling me I look too much like a girl, well..." He shrugs a little, but this just all leaves Dirk more confused.

"So... you're telling me you're a man." Kat nods. "That dresses up as a woman to work." He nods again, looking a little more than a bit mortified. Dirk just watches him for a long few moments before starting to laugh, not even miffed that this little dork of a man had broken his facade so easily.

"H-Hey, no, stop laughing..." Kat puffs out his cheeks in a pout at him, looking more and more embarrassed by the second. "It's not that funny!"

"Are you kidding me?" Dirk finally says, looking at him incredulously. "How is this not absolutely hilarious? Do you know how many men are fawning over a woman that's really a man?" Kat grumbles and looks to the side.

"A lot, I know. And no one was supposed to find out about me."

"You could have just said you're Kat's twin brother or something. Kat blinks, face going blank as if he'd never thought of that.

"Dammit, why didn't I think of that?" He swears again under his breath, shaking his head frustratingly.

"Because you're not good at anything but looks?"

"Oi, hush it." Karkat huffs at him, starting to shuffle his feet again. "Anyway, what are you doing here anyway?"

"It's my thinking spot," Dirk says ironically, lips quirking in a bit of a smirk. "I come down here after a long day."

"Huh. 'Funny that I haven't met you here before, then, 'cause I'm down here most of the time..."

"Is that so?" Yes, that is funny that they've never run into each other. Could Dirk have been so lost in thought every other time he was here, that he didn't notice another presence? The blonde finds that rather improbable, so maybe they just came at different times? Well, then what makes tonight different?

Dirk cocks his head to the side again while Kat looks determinedly away from him, cheeks still rather flushed. Dirk briefly wonders why, then smirks a little again, taking the last few steps between them so he's next to the petit waiter. "You sure you just wanted to meet me without all of your... getup?" Kat squeaks a little and turns a glare on the other, growling.

"Of course not! Why would I? You're just another idiot chasing after skirts and high heels."

"Sorry, I've already got those." Dirk pulls the leg of his pants up a little to show his rather chunky-heeled work boots. "And who's really interested in skirts anyway?"

Kat thinks over this for a long while, as if not understanding the hidden meaning or the implication. "You're a man," he eventually says, carefully and in confusion.

"Yes, your point?"

"Men like skirts."

"It doesn't have anything to do with skirts, sweetheart," Dirk chuckles, shaking his head. "More... what's under them." It takes a moment to sink in, then Kat lets out a strangled noise and slaps Dirk's shoulder a bit roughly.

"Jesus Christ, are you always with forward?!" Dirk just keeps laughing, amazed at how easy it is to set off this little ball of anger.

"Sometimes, when the situation calls for it."

"When would the situation ever call for it?" Kat demands, flushed to the tips of his ears, and Dirk decides red is a good color on him.

"When there's cute, blushy waiters to harass in a half-serious manner. You really seem to hate it."

"Yeah, well, who says I do?!" Bingo.

"Ahh, so you /did/ want to see me," Dirk practically purrs, leaning in closer to him.

"If I'd have known you were such a pervert, I wouldn't have come at all!"

"I feel like you would like my brother," he laughs, pulling back away and just smiling a bit at the smaller man. "I think you two would get along amazingly." Karkat looks away with a huff, flush increasing as he mumbles,

"Well, your brother isn't the one I looked forward to seeing everyday..." Both Dirk's eyebrows shoot up into his hair.

"Oh, really? I know I shouldn't assume things about people but you're giving me a whole lot of evidence my assumptions are correct."

"And what would your assumptions be?" Kat snaps at you, grinding his teeth a little.

"That you're head over heels for a certain blonde?" Karkat snorts in disbelief, shaking his head and stepping on Dirk's toe.

"While that may be true, I'm beginning to question whether my affections are-"

"Returned?" He steps on Dirk's toes again.

"Justified, you idiot." DIrk smiles crookedly; this is going much better than he'd thought.

"Ah, I see. Well, would you like to spend a little time to figure it out?" He holds out his arm for Karkat to take, but all he gets is a snort and a small man walking away.

"I know this great restaurant on fifth; it's a hell of a sight better than the shithole where I work." Dirk grins and trots to catch up to him.

"I'm so glad you know totes bad that food is." Karkat's glare slips a little into a confused frown.

"What do bags have to do with anything?"

* * *

**A/N**: I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT PUN; I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO END IT


End file.
